


Unity in a Ring of Moonstone

by Ornament_of_Rhyme



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Defected Ben Solo, Devotion, F/M, First Time, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sex (Star Wars), Impregnation, Post-TLJ, Redeemed Ben Solo, Romance, That's Not How The Force Works, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ornament_of_Rhyme/pseuds/Ornament_of_Rhyme
Summary: “This place must have been a resort,” Ben said. “I noticed it had the makings of one, it was just missing...”“An attraction,” Rey finished, drawing his gaze. She turned to the room, raising her arms. “Well, here it is. I am attracted.”





	Unity in a Ring of Moonstone

**Author's Note:**

> And I thought Marvel was going to be the hardest fandom I'd ever have to break into.
> 
> Admittedly, I am undereducated in Star Wars canon, but I was so eager to write a Reylo fic that I took the dive early. I hope this doesn't detract from the story.

They had only been on the planet for the greater part of a day before they could say with certainty that it was secure, small and vacant as it was. Dwellings like the one he now explored were nothing but husks where life used to exist. Given the liberty to choose, they selected this palatial building for their sojourn, though it was too large for their sparse company. The Resistance was regenerating at a sluggish rate, and this faction had only amassed enough people that he doubted they could occupy more than half of the building.

Once, the planet must have thrived, for the streets and structures were wrought with such care, and worn with use, but whoever made it their home had long since moved on. There was no sign of a fight, no sign of a hurry to flee; no sign of anything at all. Now the only life on the planet was wild.

The unusually hard moonstone that pieced together the hallway floors was dull with soot, and the wide windows at each end were mottled with grime. Dust lay thick in every room, but they were furnished, with each of their purposes easy to discern by their contents. Most were bedrooms or refreshers, while the larger rooms—the entrance hall, dining room, kitchen, and parlor—were a cluster around the entrance.

Ben walked the halls, his focus largely internal. The general had sent a select few to survey the building; him, and two others from her Resistance. To escape the wary eyes darting his way, he took up the task without a word, disappearing into the east wing.  
  
Even as intriguing and majestic as this place was, he would have liked nothing more than to be on a different planet, far from the Resistance. He would set out in a heartbeat if Rey would finally commit to what they had decided together.  
  
Grey. That's what they were, the two of them. Defected, but connected to the Resistance by Rey's plea for a little more time with them.  
  
Sometimes he wondered if she would change her mind entirely; stay with her friends and force him to wander the galaxy alone, or beg him to join their fight. He knew already that he could do neither of those things. The Resistance would never be his cause, but to lose Rey's companionship, after it was so hard won for both of them, was a blow he couldn't take. The weight of the uncertainty writhed in his stomach constantly, a sickening sensation he was not accustomed to, even after three months of this charade.  
  
_“Ben.”_  
  
The soft hiss wrenched him from his thoughts. It was Rey, he knew like it were an instinct. Her voice using a name only one other dared to.  
  
Turning, he found her poking out from around the corner he had just passed, waving him over.  
  
“Have you found trouble already?” he inquired, wry. He hadn't seen her since the meal a few hours ago.  
  
“Hush,” she said, scanning the empty hall. When he was within reach, she took him by the wrist and pulled him after her, back the way she must have come.  
  
He didn't ask questions. She radiated excitement, staying light on her feet and alert to signs of interlopers as they passed into new areas. This, whatever she wanted to show him, was meant to be theirs.

He couldn't deny himself the gratification which came with that knowledge. Ever since he found her again—after a time of leading the First Order astray and searching for her faction of the Resistance—objects and places began taking on new ownership, whether or not it was expressed aloud: theirs.

Sure, his room was not also hers, but his over-shirts had become theirs, as more often than not they found themselves knotted around her hips by the day's end. Likewise, when they trained together, it wasn't uncommon for her to share a tie from her buns so he could keep his hair out of his face. Food was theirs as well, and he actively encouraged it, subtly pushing food at her whenever he had the opportunity. He didn't yet know much about her life on Jakku, but the planet had a reputation that told him exactly why she ate so quickly, and why he could feel the ridges of her ribs when he pinned her down with a training staff.

Once, for an instant, her arm wrap was his as, in a moment of mischief in the canteen, she wound it around his head. He didn't know if he was more embarrassed by the others seeing him in such a ridiculous state, or by how he cherished the warm scent of her on the band.

Beyond their power was the dreams they shared. Her dreams sometimes became his, and other times they both woke with an identical pulse of horror. These, he would have liked not to share.

After a couple of minutes spent traversing the corridors, they ducked through a door into a room full of hanging racks and shelves, which still offered their dilapidated towels to guests long gone. In here it was cooler, as though they were nearing an exit. The weather on this planet was closer to the mild side of things, but not enough that it couldn't be accurately described as chilly.  
  
At the end of the room was another door, the one through which the cold seeped. Stopping there, Rey looked back at him, beaming. Before he could speak, she pushed open the door.  
  
The first to hit him was a full rush of the outside air, but notice of it was immediately discarded in favor of the cavern they found themselves in.  
  
A yawning hole in the ceiling allowed a flood of sunlight to pour into the enormous space, and was aided in this endeavor by an archway hewn from the furthest wall. Beneath the hole was a matching pond, more a crater than anything. It brimmed with water and steam, which rolled over the surface. Embedded in the floor all around it, from one wall to the next, were smaller hydrothermal pools. Every one of them had a channel that routed back to the pond at the heart of the room, which then drained through a stream running out of the arch.  
  
“It's marvelous, isn't it?” Rey said, bouncing over to the nearest pool. “A hot spring?”

“Yes,” he answered. He followed her without thought.  
  
The room was lined with wall sconces, and made of white rock. Swathes of the walls were painted by the rippling glance of sunshine off the waters. While this rock was rugged, the floor was smooth and level. From the very edge of each pool, the pond included, geometric cuts of polished moonstone lay encrusted, spiraling out in progressively smaller shards until they faded away into the snowy white rock.  
  
It was on the adularescent stone that Rey stood, peering into the pool. Despite the surface whirling with steam, they could see that the water beneath was clear as crystal.

“This water appears remarkably unpolluted,” he commented.

“It's them, see?” Rey pointed out three black shapes underwater. Fish, he recognized, as he caught the docile billow of their fins. Each must have been the length of her forearm, and clung to the walls, likely serving to keep the pool clean. Their spines and fins were limned with a blue bio-luminescent glow. He eyeballed another pool nearby and found more fish there.

“This must have been a resort,” he said. “I noticed it had the makings of one, it was just missing...”  
  
“An attraction,” she finished, drawing his gaze. She turned to the room, raising her arms. “Well, here it is. I am attracted. I wonder why they left.”  
  
Before he could posit his ideas on the matter, she pulled at the drape of her sash, letting it coil by her boots.  
  
“What are you doing?” His mind scattered as she set about disrobing entirely, heedless of his presence. However, one thought did manage to prevail. “Wait!”  
  
She slowed in unraveling her chest wrap, looking over at him in confusion. “What is it?”  
  
“We don't know anything about this water. It could be dangerous.”  
  
“They don't mind it,” she said, gesturing to the fish, and then to the pond in the center where a loose gathering of avians floated peacefully on the surface of the water.  
  
He couldn't focus on refuting this as she finished undressing, he simply trained his eyes on the forest beyond the archway, trying to restrain them from straying back to her.  
  
The smallest of swishes could be heard as she set foot inside the pool. She hummed in appreciation, a sound that shot straight to his heart, and then down to his groin.  
  
After a moment, there came a larger stir of water as she sunk into it. She laughed, a giddy sound that echoed lightly off the walls and had his eyes snapping back to her.  
  
Her body was a ripple beneath the surface. Looking back at him from the center of the pool, her eyes shone bright.  
  
“It's a bath!” she enthused.  
  
“Yes,” he agreed slowly, uncertain of her meaning.  
  
“I've never been in a bath. I've showered and scrubbed myself down, but there's never been the opportunity.” Water and steam licked up her freckled shoulders as she spun in place, arms out and creating waves. “This is amazing!”  
  
She had a way of leaving him stunned by the slightest of things, like her unbridled joy over what amounted to a big puddle of water.  
  
She moved to recline against one side of the pool. There appeared to be a seat carved into the wall under the surface, which meant that when she sat, her chest lifted out of the water, leaving her breasts above the surface. He tried not to notice how her nipples hardened at the sudden change of temperature, and instead focused solely on her eyes when she cast her attention on him. “Well? Aren't you going to get in?” she asked.  
  
He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound formed.  
  
“Come on. It's safe. See,” she held up her hands, “I'm not melting.”  
  
“You are too eager to embrace danger,” he said offhandedly as he thought about how he could walk away from this. Avoid the feelings, avoid the humiliation. But the spring did look inviting, and her smile even more so.

“If it were such a risk, you would have stopped me.”  
  
Perhaps it was an unwillingness to ruin her mood, or perhaps it was something entirely selfish, but he was compelled to join her. He undressed with her in his peripheral, watching for her own reaction to the nudity, but if she glanced his way, it was fleeting enough that he missed it.  
  
He eased into the pool with a sigh through his nose, feeling the hot water embrace his body as it set about soothing the aches native to living with the makeshift Resistance. Salt and pepper pebbles shifted underfoot as he went to the edge across from her and sat on the shelf of rock. Aside from them, he noted, two or three others could comfortably fit in the pool without disturbing the fish.

As she leaned back with her elbows on the shimmering stone and admired the cavern around them, awestruck and seemingly without a care in the world, he came to a sudden understanding: her unabashed nudity didn't stem from a desire to seduce him or make him uncomfortable. She didn't care. Truly. She had lived most of her life as a scavenger on a ravaged planet, likely sharing a watering hole with neighbors and strangers. It would be necessary for one to develop a fearlessness of the body under those circumstances.

The realization eased the knot in his stomach somewhat, but left in its wake a whisper of disappointment. That particular feeling was not unusual, however, and so he shoved it to the back of his mind. Unfortunately, this didn't do anything to stop other parts of his body from reacting to the situation. The heat engulfing him became almost stifling, and he strategically placed his arms in his lap in an effort to obscure his stirring cock.  
  
“This is just what everyone needs,” Rey said with her eyes closing, her head lolling back. Already, her chest and neck were damp with a gloss of steam. “It's finally a place worth living in.”  
  
Instead of asking why she told only him of her discovery, he couldn't stop himself from reminding her, “We can't stay here.”  
  
She straightened out of her relaxed slump. “I'm not ready yet.”  
  
“You're never going to be ready, Rey.”  
  
“They're my family,” she said, her brows drawing together. Defensive.  
  
_Is that not my purpose now?_  
  
He knew it reached her when she shook her head. “You can't be everyone for me, Ben.”  
  
“But you can do so for me?” he shot back.  
  
“I never told you to keep to yourself!”  
  
His mouth shut with an audible click. _You know they won't come to accept me. I can't stay._  
  
Rey's gaze fell to the water where the steam danced without heed to the heaviness of her stare. Eventually, she said, “You're right. We can't stay.”  
  
Having festered in her pause, a bitter notion seized him, and his lip curled. “Don't choose me out of pity.”  
  
At this, she considered him for a long moment. Then she pushed away from her seat. “It's not pity.”  
  
Something had changed suddenly, he realized, the flare of hurt dampening. They were veering into territory unknown; finally granting acknowledgment to that particular pull which had begun to manifest early in their encounters.  
  
And instead of fleeing from it, he met her challenge. “What is it?”  
  
Again, she searched his face for something. “You must know.”  
  
“I would like to,” he said lowly, as if afraid to break the spell. She shivered at his voice—a barely there quiver in her shoulders that his eyes were keen to catch.  
  
He let her come to him, giving her time to turn back, but her hesitance was second to her determination. Sure feet led her to stand before him. Their legs skimmed, deep in the crystalline water.

She held her breath as she closed the distance for a single kiss. The abruptness had him lagging to participate, catching her lips only briefly before she pulled back.  
  
His breath shuddered from him, taking with it an ache long-harbored in his chest. When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling across at him, a cheeky thing, but her gaze betrayed her worry. Fear that she would be refused.  
  
As if he hadn't been devoted to this woman from the beginning.  
  
This time it was he who leaned into her space, holding her chin as he met her lips. With an unseen swish of water, her hands came up to tangle into his hair, deepening the kiss and wresting a groan from his throat. The water from her skin drizzled down his torso, lukewarm compared to her touch.

She stole her lips away to laugh at their ferocity. His own mouth tried to follow, but she kept just out of reach, leaving him lost and breathing hard. He pressed his hands into her back, keeping her there, though she made no attempt to leave. Instead, she moved closer, bracing herself with his shoulders as she climbed into his lap, bracketing his hips with her knees. He was quick to draw her in again, desperate for more, yet she managed to slow the kiss until it flowed like the fish's glowing fins.

As he savored her taste, there came a brush against his mind, familiar, gentle, and he opened himself up to it.

In his mind's eye, images flashed; the man he once was, changing, progressing into the man he is today with every encounter. With these visions came a rush of emotion, many powerful feelings with unnamed undercurrents.

Fear. Hate. Confusion. Sadness, sympathy. Hope. So much hope for the lonesome man with a blade as unstable as he.

Most alarming was the occasional flicker of faith. Faith in _him,_ even then.

Then came love, and desire—strong and wholehearted, as if they had been there all along, but only just cracked the shell. Along with these came heartache.

Joy abounded when he came to her and the Resistance. Happiness, as they grew together rather than apart; as they found their home in each other. Love and hope was woven through it all.

Without hesitation, he returned her transparency with his own. The underlying nuance was equal, but his deepest feelings for her seemed to span a shorter spectrum, beginning with intrigue and frustration, but making a fluid transformation into compassion, yearning, and before long, devotion; a love to rival all.

When the emotional flood ebbed, he couldn't tell where her passion ended and his began.

"We match," she said, running fingers through the thick hair at the base of his neck.

Taking that hand, he curled his own around it. He brought it to his lips for a kiss to her fingers, then carried it to his chest. "Wherever we find ourselves, we will stand on firm ground."  
  
Gracing him with the fondest of looks, she used her other hand to explore his face. "Sometimes I can't believe you're actually here," she said, quiet.

Ben had an equal grasp of the feeling. To a degree, he was amazed he had been able to escape the First Order unscathed, not to mention forge any sort of armistice between himself and the Resistance. In fact, the last few months could be reasonably classified as unbelievable. In the past, he hadn't often entertained the idea that he would ever be so close to Rey that he could wake every morning and seek her out in the same building—dreamed of it, yes, frequently, but his conviction had fractured each time she refused his proposals to rule together. Now, not only had he found himself living alongside her, but he had her _in his lap_.

He responded, “From the beginning I knew we would stand together or not at all. It was only a matter of time before we would be forced to choose which.” Admittedly, he never expected to be the one to make the final decision, but that didn't matter anymore. “There is nowhere for me without you.”

Her lashes fanned low as she watched her thumb sweep over his lips. He could feel the ridges of her fingerprint.

She untangled their fingers so she could comb hair out of his face. For their part, his hands found a home in the bend of her waist, where he could see the slowly diminishing protuberance of her ribs, and feel it under his palms. It was reassuring to observe the improvement up close.

He drank her in with greed. Constellations of freckles patterned her shoulders and collar and breasts, rivaling the stars in their worth. Her skin was adorned with tan lines and scars born of years toiling under an oppressive sun, picking at great metal carcasses to survive. The scars didn't compare to his in number and reach, but spoke for her own seasons of asperity.

His eyes followed her stomach down to her navel beneath the water. Lower down, between her legs, he could make out a dark patch of hair. Just as easily discernible was his erection, nearly resting against her thigh, only a couple inches from the contact it ached for.

Under the water that leg shifted, brushing up against his cock. At the shock of pleasure, his attention shot up to her face. She looked back, examining his reaction.

“Is this alright?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, breathless. She cracked a smile, but he didn't feel judged by it.

“I'm sorry if I...” She grasped for words. “I've never done this.”

“Then you know as much as I do.” His thumbs traced along the soft underline of her breasts. “What... would you like from me?”

After a moment of hesitance, she collected his hand and took it into the hot water. “Here,” she said, and led his fingers to her sex, just inside her heat. Then she released him, expecting him to explore.

Swallowing, he did so, and found her sensitive bundle of nerves. At the faintest contact, her breath hitched and her body trembled. Again, he swirled a finger over the bud, eager to elicit more mesmeric responses.

She sagged into him as he caressed her, feeling through the slick heat of her folds. The tip of his finger dipped into her core, testing, and he was rewarded when she let out a delicate noise of encouragement against his ear.

He jolted when her wandering hand grasped his cock. Slim fingers wound around him, then disappeared briefly before he felt her fingertips brush the up his length. It was a fleeting, teasing sensation that sent intoxicating shivers down his spine.

She took him in hand again, this time at the base. It was difficult to keep his mind on his movements as she stroked his cock, earning the suppressed sounds of his ecstasy. But when he did regain control of his brain, he redoubled his efforts to please, while bringing a hand up to her neck to soothe over the sweat-and-steam moistened skin there.

“Ben,” she whimpered. Unbidden, her hips bucked when he grazed her bud at a different angle. It caused her hands to falter, abandoning his cock in favor of clasping onto his arms. It was like her world had shaken, and she needed to steady herself. He felt much the same.

Her hips jerked again, brushing her sex against the head of his cock, and a flash of euphoria overtook them—both of them, he knew; he felt her through their bond just then, mixing their desire and exhilaration and sharing it between them.

Meeting his eyes, she silently asked for him. Ready for the next step.

“Anything.” In that moment, he would have begged for it.

At her nod, he grasped himself, leading his cock to her entrance. Carefully he pressed inside—only the head, allowing both of them to soak in the sensation. She held him tight, and he could feel her strange mix of delight and discomfort. Before he could ask about it, she took the initiative to lower herself further onto him, taking him in nearly halfway and startling them both.

She shifted and gasped in pain.

“What is it?” His hands flew to her waist, trying to lift her off of him. “Did I hurt you?”

The tanned legs at his sides clamped against him, refusing to budge. “No, don't. I want you.”

An argument rushed to the tip of his tongue, but it died just as fast. He could sense her stubbornness. She would not relent.

So he didn't argue, but left it up to her to make the next move. As agonizing as it was to simply rest inside of her, with her body so tight and welcoming to his form, calling him deeper, he resisted.

In an attempt to replace some of the discomfort, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck, her chest. One of his hands rose to cup her breast, while his mouth attended to the other. He thumbed over the hardness of one nipple as he laved over the other. She melted into him with each touch until she swooped in to intercept his lips with her own.

“I'm ready,” she told him when they parted.

This time they moved at a more gradual pace, with her taking him a little at a time. When she was fully seated, they waited another moment to adjust. She bent into him, trailing kisses along the scar she gave him so many moons ago, climbing from its lowest point on his chest, up his neck, then along his cheek. Her lips detoured to press tenderly into the side of his nose before returning to their path up his brow.

Between their physical contact and their intermingling emotions, he didn't think anything could feel more divine. That is, until she finally rolled her hips against him.

“ _Rey.”_ He felt every bit of her name resound in his chest.

She whimpered as they rocked together, needy and giving and blind to all but one another.

Soon, they found a steady rhythm that drove both of them mad. The water washed away her natural slickness, but the resulting friction was its own kind of perfect.

As in all things, Rey was captivating. He admired the flex of her lean muscles, and the feel of her inner walls fluttering around him; the smattering of freckles across her cheeks, and the tips of her hair, wet from the spring and sticking to her neck; then there was the small gape of her mouth as she breathed with him...

Her hands flew to her hips where his own had settled. “Ben, touch me,” she panted.

Sufficiently snapped out of his trance, he immediately set out to make up for it. She caught on to his intentions, and when he stood, she wrapped her legs around him and clung tight. He flipped them around, kneeling on the seat while she braced herself on the edge of the pool. To take the bulk of her weight, he held her close by her back, palming one shoulder blade, while placing his other arm over her tailbone lest she bruise it against the stone. He apologized for his lapse in attentiveness with a gentle kiss to her breast.

The adjusted position was met with much relief. It also allowed him to sink deeper into her.

“I've never felt so full,” she stammered and, _stars_ , he didn't think he could burn any brighter for her.

Each thrust drove them closer to the edge, especially as they watched him disappear inside her, captivated by their connection. He looked up at her again, seeing the uneven rise and fall of her chest, her damp brow, the way bliss touched her features. With a fresh swell of vehemence, he surged forth to capture her lips, drawing out the kiss as long as their frantic breaths allowed.

She broke off with a sob as she took him once more to the root. They were hurtling toward their peaks, whispering to each other in broken voices, when he became aware of a push from something Other. Familiar. That which drew them together in the beginning of it all.

"Ben—" she breathed, "—do you feel that?”

“Yes.” _A blessing,_ he thought, and her expression said she sensed it too.

They could feel it coaxing them—gently, an idea, not a command—implying that their coming together was blessed, just as a child of their love would be. They were the Grey, alone but for one another. It would fall on them to spread their change, and they could ignite that spark within Rey; nurture it. An unforeseen starting point, but one he found he wanted with a certainty that was bone-deep.

She looked back at him, equally enlightened. “I—I want it, too.”

Emotion overwhelmed him, choking him in the sweetest of ways. He could have wept with it. Instead, he dragged her in for a searing kiss while he rocked into her.

The open bond had them falling over the edge together, clutching each other close as they rode the wave of ecstasy. He buried himself to the hilt, with her name a benediction on his tongue. Her inner walls held him tight as he gave her his seed.

Lethargy tugged at him as he came down from the high, but he ignored its pull in favor of the woman in his arms. They traded lazy kisses—merely ghosting their lips together—as he returned them to their earlier position. Unwilling to part with her, he remained inside Rey even after she settled in his lap. She didn't protest; instead allowing her body to relax against him. Her arms found their way around his shoulders, while her head came to a rest in the crook of his neck.

After a time of simply breathing together, she spoke. “On Jakku, pregnancy is considered an illness, and an infant is worse than a lost limb.”

She must have felt his bafflement, as she went on to explain. “A limb can be made of salvaged parts, but an infant means more work for insufficient portions. They're rare on Jakku. I thought I heard a baby once, out in the dunes, but never found any sign of it.”

Ben absently skimmed his fingers down her spine. “Our child will never be treated as a burden,” he said, “or a pariah.”

“Our child,” she repeated. Awe laced her tone, and he felt much the same. Though underneath they bore no small amount of fear, there was not a trace of regret between them.

"One more week.” Rey sat up, catching his gaze. “We can prepare a ship, and I can give my goodbyes. Besides, we may never come back to this planet again. We should take advantage of what it has to offer."

He huffed out a laugh, though he couldn't help but agree. “A week and a half,” he said. She grinned.

A shuffle drew their attention to the doorway, where they found Rose gaping at the room in wonder. “Jeez,” she murmured. Then her eyes fell upon them, tied up in each other and very much naked.

“Oh!” Rose flushed. “Sorry. I—I'll just...” She made for the door with stilted movements, but before her departure she half turned back and added, “Be careful, um, not to get an infection from the water.”

Before the door latched behind her, Rey was already collapsing against him, forehead to forehead, with their noses brushing together. When she laughed, her breath puffed against his mouth.

“I get the impression the nudity itself was more of a shock than we were,” he told her.

The absence of his usual indignity was a mild surprise, but he didn't pay it much mind. The entirety of the Resistance could walk in on them, and he wouldn't mind at all if it meant he could stay in that state with her eternally.

Suddenly taken with the thought, he reconsidered the abandoned planet of dust and moonstone.

It was a leap to go from sharing hair ties and shirts to sharing a whole planet, but there was no greater opportunity waiting for them in the entire galaxy, especially if they would soon have a child to care for. Claiming and maintaining a planet was a worthy endeavor for such an exceptional team.

“You can't force the Resistance off the planet,” Rey later stipulated.

An exceptional team with varying definitions of home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is nothing in life I'd like more right now than to improve how I write these two. I can't seem to gauge how out of character they are when I write them. That said, if you have any critiques or comments on how I could improve the characterization, or if you have another comment entirely, I would love to hear your thoughts. Anything is appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
